


Someday

by never_wanted_to_dance



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Small Town, Alternate Universe- No Supernatural, Castiel Has a Religious Family, College Student Sam, M/M, Originally Posted on FanFiction.Net, Slow Burn, Small Towns, There's a lot of country and classic rock music associated with this fic, i go all out, oh yeah, there's even a spotify playlist
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-17
Updated: 2017-08-13
Packaged: 2018-10-20 06:20:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 21,630
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10656705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/never_wanted_to_dance/pseuds/never_wanted_to_dance
Summary: After burnout father John Winchester is killed in a freak car accident when Dean is 19, the boys’ lives take an entirely different turn than they could have. Sammy gets to finish school properly without learning to fire a gun before he can work the TV remote, Bobby gets to see the two of them grow up into a stable, normal life, and Dean - well. Dean gets to experience first-hand the utter mundanity that comes with average small town life. That is, until a man with eyes like an angel decides to walk into town and throw most of what Dean Winchester thinks he knows about life straight out of the window.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted on Fanfiction.net at: [Link](https://www.fanfiction.net/s/7832191/1/Someday)
> 
> Spotify playlist (including all songs at quoted at the beginning of chapters, and more) here: [Link](https://open.spotify.com/user/113779907/playlist/7n7opl1b1bQ46dhDE3D1W9)

_Well I was born in a small town, and I live in a small town, Prob'ly die in a small town_

_John Mellencamp, 'Small Town'_

 

There are certain places in the world which lend themselves easily to opportunity. Airports, train stations, even the odd neon-lit highway in the middle of the night. The kind of places which ooze both nostalgia and promise for the future at the same time, with emotion and experience bursting out of every corner and crack in the floorboards. People are inspired, at peace, made to believe that anything is possible at that moment if they want it to be.

Jericho was not that sort of place.

Sandwiched right in the middle of Memphis and the back-end of nowhere, it took Dean Winchester less than a year of working at the solitary gas station to grow tired of people asking him how he could stand living all on his own out in the middle of nowhere. It was less than two years before he stopped trying to explain to them that there was actually a town there. And, he thought, on stifling summer days like these where they'd be lucky to see more than five cars in a day on the road outside, let alone see them stop, well - it's none of their freaking business anyway. He leant back in his chair against the wall behind the counter, eyes half-closed against the sunlight filtering harshly through the cheap curtains.

The flickering neon light above the door was beginning to give him a headache. Making a mental note to fix it as soon as he could call in a favour from the guy who owned the hardware store, Dean swung his legs up onto the counter and settled back, wondering whether or not to call Sam - but no, he had that final today didn't he? Or was that tomorrow? The radio tucked underneath the register continued to crackle, the occasional snatch of some godawful country singer floating out through the static.

The shrill noise of the phone cut through the stagnant air suddenly, hanging on the opposite wall much too far away for Dean's liking. He waited a few seconds, half hoping whoever it was would give up and go, then groaned and stood up, eyes narrowed against the afternoon light.

'What?'

'Jesus boy, you greet all your paying customers like that? People want customer service, not their heads bitten off'

'Last I saw Bobby, my paying customers don't want anything more than the right change and a drink from a cooler that actually works. I thought it might be you."

Bobby chuckled, voice tinny and distant down the crackly line. "Well who else is it gonna be? I was wonderin' if you’d heard from Sam since Monday. Damn boy never tells me anything, but I know he had that important quiz thing or whatever it was today."

Ah, so it was today. "Why don't you ask him yourself? Ain't your slave…" he muttered sullenly, staring longingly at the sad, empty chair on the other side of the shop.

"I'll take it that's a no then. You'll give me a call later when you've spoken to him?"

"Yeah." Dean sighed, watching a fat bluebottle crawl across a nearby shelf and wishing Bobby would hurry up and get to the point. "C'mon now, we both know that isn't why you really called. Just get to it."

The line stood silent for a few seconds before Bobby replied. "Just wanted to make sure you were okay kid. Six years might be a long time to you, feels like yesterday to an old man like me. Your Dad and I might have had our differences, but that doesn't mean I don't still miss him."

"I'm fine."

"Like hell you are. Just don't you sit around working on that damn car all night, that's all I'm saying."

Dean snorted. "It's just another day, Bobby. I've said it before, the guy was hardly around when he was alive, it's not exactly breaking my heart now that he's not home with dinner cooking when I close up shop."

Another pause. "I gotta go, I got an engine that needs rebuilding" Bobby finally answered, sounding tired. "You'll talk to Sam?"

"I already said I would"

"Alright then. Don't do anything stupider than usual, idjit."

Dean hung up the phone and leant back against the window sill to his right. He stared at the clock hanging over the doorway to the back room for a few seconds, watching it ticking away the seconds towards the 3 o' clock marker. Yep. Three hours earlier than the closing time posted on the door was certainly as good a time as ever to close up.

* * *

 

Steve's Place was as full as ever of all the downbeat regulars who seemed to find themselves there every afternoon without fail, never quite remembering how they got there in the first place. Dean flung his coat down over a bar stool, raising a hand at the older man behind the bar, who nodded back and began making his drink. The unintentionally vintage jukebox played on happily in the corner, the up-beat music lending the already dismal room an air which today, still seemed just downright depressing. The bartender came over holding a double scotch, handing it to Dean with a smile and waving away the hand reaching for his wallet.

"I still owe you for fixing the Ford last week. We would have been done for if you hadn't gotten us out of here in time for her sister's wedding. That deserves a couple more whiskeys at least" he grinned, wandering back down to the other side of the bar.

As the afternoon dragged on and the stifling June heat became slightly more bearable, Dean began to relax a little. The jukebox dragged on, the three old men in the corner argued viciously over who had won an illegal boxing match some 20 years previous, and Steve's wife Tracy sidled up to him as usual, making crude jokes and going through enough white wine spritzers to knock out a bull. It really was just another day. Eventually, peeling away from Tracy and nodding goodbye to Steve, Dean made his way out of the bar and down the tiny high street to the apartment.

* * *

 

A good half bottle of whiskey and two hours spent fiddling with his dad's old beat-up Chevy later, and Dean wondered, as he often did, whether Bobby had some sort of psychic ability that only worked on him.

Wiping down his hands with a rag, he stood up and made his way into the empty house, vaguely thinking about the phone call he'd had with a very animated Sam after closing up the filling station. Their conversations were practically scripted by this point - Sam yapping on about his classes or how his new landlord was being a dick again, or how he was still trying to decide on whether he should apply to Harvard next year or somewhere closer. Dean listened, said a couple of things about the shop or how the car was getting on, and reminded his brother to call Bobby more often. They agreed to call again soon, then hung up. No mention of the anniversary date, or of their Dad at all.

The refrigerator hummed quietly in the background, and Dean stood in the kitchen, at a loss with himself for a few seconds. The apartment stood empty and silent, the two bedrooms mocking him quietly. The calendar on the fridge caught his eye as he replaced the bottle of whiskey on a shelf, and he sighed. The clock in the corner loudly ticked on, and on, and on.


	2. Chapter 2

_Wanted to belong here,_

_But something felt so wrong here,_

_So I prayed I could break away._

_Kelly Clarkson_

 

One thing they can never tell you enough, Cas thought miserably to himself as the mid-morning sun beat down incessantly through the windshield of the car, is just how uncomfortable it is driving south in the middle of summer, and yet still you never quite grasp it until you've lived -and sweated- through it yourself.

His phone buzzed unhappily behind him, buried somewhere deep in the mass of boxes and suitcases piled on the backseat of the tiny and over-stuffed car, likely beyond all hope of retrieval for the time being.

A beat-up sign loomed by the car suddenly, the first one that wasn't a road sign that he'd seen in the last hour or so. It proclaimed its message to the world in shabby red and white lettering that was beginning to peel:

**WINCHESTER GAS**

**PREMIUM UNLEADED $2.04**

**DRINKS SNACKS**

**NO ATM**

**NEXT LEFT**

A quick glance at the empty water bottle he had bought that morning languishing sadly on the seat next to him, and the decision was a fairly easy one to make. Besides, Cas thought, cheering up a little at the idea, maybe he could make sure he was actually headed in the right direction. The thought of actually speaking to another human being alone seemed to make the heat of the sweltering car a little more bearable as the car swung around the tight left turn into a tiny lane, which led straight up to the forecourt of the rather worse-for-wear looking filling station.

Swinging his legs out of the car, Cas ran his hand through his sticky hair, and spotting a man sitting idly at the counter through the large glass window on the front of the white building in front of him, made his way inside. The man barely looked up the book propped up in front of him as the door swung open and Cas made his way over to the cooler and grabbed two more bottles of water, only looking up to raise an eyebrow at him when the dark-haired man put them down on the counter. He sighed at the half-hearted smile Cas was attempting, and glanced down at the items.

"That's $3.50." he muttered, opening the old looking cash register with a reluctant clanking sound as he glanced up at the clock on the wall behind him. Cas cleared his throat nervously as he handed over the money.

"Am I, er, am I on the right road for Jericho?" he stammered, slightly abashed by the surliness of the man in front of him. It wasn’t what he’d been expecting from the young cashier. "My name is Cas, I'm headed-"

"You're on the interstate, aren't you? I'm sure you can read a map, it’s right up ahead." Dean snapped back, tossing the change onto the counter and closing his book, before standing up to walk over to the phone on the opposite wall. "What, you want anything else?" he asked, noticing the man was still staring at him.

Cas shook his head quickly, dropping his gaze and taking the bottles from the counter. He sidled out back to the car, and sat down heavily in the seat. Pulling out of the court, he glanced back in the rear-view at the man in the gas station, who now stood against the wall holding an old wall-mounted phone to his ear and shaking his head animatedly. What on earth was he getting himself into, he wondered, not the first time such a thought had crossed his tired mind in the last 48 hours of traveling.

* * *

 

After finally driving through the tiny main street that made up the bulk of the 'town' (which Cas was seriously starting to think was a title awarded out of pity by some country town planner to the despondent little place), spending two hours lugging boxes from the car to his Aunt's house up on the hill, calling his aunt to say he'd arrived and forcing some kind of food found in the tiny kitchen down his throat, Cas finally collapsed on the double bed that took up the majority of the bedroom which was not covered in boxes.

The heat was not much depleted by the approaching of late afternoon, although thankfully the humidity had eased up a little. He tossed his phone up and down in his hand as he lay, too exhausted to consider returning the three missed calls he had from two of his brothers, and one from his father that he was certainly not in a hurry to return at all if he could help it.

Ignoring the loud grandfather clock that ticked annoyingly in the corner of the room, Cas closed his eyes against the slowly dimming light filtering in through the cheap curtains and succumbed to sleep almost immediately, plagued by thoughts of polyester bed sheets and rude, freckled men who glared harshly in the soft afternoon sunlight.


	3. Chapter 3

_Then I woke up one day; said I'm not runnin' home: It's just not like me._  
_'Cause I like a challenge an' I like to fly, I'm not always perfect; I'm not always right._

_Taking Back My Brave – Carolyn Dawn Johnson_

The sun rose early and stifling over Jericho the next day, and the parched looking trees lining the road into town stood dead-still in the non-existent wind. As Cas drove slowly through the intermittent stripes of shadow thrown by the differently sized trunks, he yawned, trying to shake off the drowsiness that had been bothering him all morning – definitely the consequences of not bothering to unpack the coffee maker before passing out he decided, resigning himself to yet more unpacking when he got back, as well as learning how to use the various appliances picked up from the hurried last-minute trip around ikea three days earlier.

The car gave a worrying shudder, and Cas held his breath, praying for the engine to not overheat and give out on him again. Driving around the local area all morning had ended up being of little use, and he winced as he remembered some of the looks he'd been given from various residents. The hardware store, the off-licence, the bakery – he'd been all but laughed away from all of them on enquiring about job openings. Even the friendly looking woman who ran the diner had only seen fit to coldly suggest the -currently closed for summer- high school on the outskirts of the town as the only place for miles which might be hiring, as if he hadn’t already considered that. It was definitely turning out to be a waste of a morning, and after contemplating his day, Cas concluded that his initial reception from the standoffish guy at the gas station had actually been the friendliest one so far.

His phone buzzed irritatingly in his pants pocket, reminding him once again that he really had to bite the bullet and call somebody back sometime soon. No doubt Aunt Gloria had already been on the phone to at least one of his brothers announcing his arrival. He sighed, and pulled into a parking space beside a walled fish pond, which offered a slight relief from the sun by way of a large oak tree leaning precariously over it at an alarming angle. Cas gulped down the last of his water and tossed the bottle over onto the passenger seat, before reluctantly pulling out his phone and staring at the missed calls list. 4 different brothers and his father – he scanned the list, closed it down and hit his speed dial button. Never mind he thought, as the phone began its tinny ring and connected with a sharp dial tone.

'Cas?'

'Hello Gabriel.'

His brother chuckled down the scratchy line. 'Before you even ask, I am so not calling Dad for you. I'm assuming you've arrived and that's why you're calling off this crappy line with a private number?'

'If it was a private number how could you have possibly known it was me?' Cas sighed, already anticipating a long and tiring conversation. He sank down further into the driver's seat and closed his eyes. Gabriel outright laughed this time.

'Who else is going to ring me on a private number?' the sound of traffic overtook the line for a few seconds, drowning out his next words. '...on earth you would call probably the only person who hasn't been calling you 10 times a day since you left – not that I don't care – But I know unpacking is the worst and-'

'Gabe? Shut up for two seconds please' Cas interrupted, breaking into the other man's near unstoppable stream of consciousness. 'Can you just call them and say I got here ok? Please?'

A tiny sigh came from the other end. 'Why don't you just call Balthy? Or are you two not best of friends any more, hmm?'

'You know how he feels about my leaving, and even if he didn't, you know Father would be listening in on the other end any way. If you call... well, they don't mind you so much.' He broke off as Gabriel started laughing wildly. 'Are you listening to me?'

'Yeah, yeah' Gabriel coughed and stopped laughing. 'Look, just because I left three years ago and you left, what, three days ago, doesn't mean I'm all of a sudden the golden boy. Although maybe you will take the heat off me a little, hadn't thought of that, it does get a bit boring being the only black sheep after a while...' he trailed off thoughtfully, and Cas paused.

'You'll call them?'

'Yes, yes. Now tell me, how is old Gloria's house? That town as dead-end as I remember it?' he asked, tone slightly more serious. 'I still can't understand why you'd choose that over the bright lights of the city' he said, his voice rising to shout over a passing car as he finished his sentence.

'Not all of us are built to withstand the debauchery of New York, Gabe.' Cas sighed, 'And yes, to answer your question, it unfortunately seems to be. I don't think I've got a chance at a job until at least September when the school opens back up, then I can apply for a teaching position.'

'Oh that's how it is, is it?' he replied in a mock-offended manner, and Cas could almost picture his over-exaggerated face as he said it. 'Look brother. You want my advice? Park that old car somewhere shaded, find the nearest deadbeat bar and drink yourself stupid, just this once. You'll feel better once you have, I promise you.' A car horn blared loudly over the phone. 'I have to go, my ride is here. Keep in touch kid!'

'Don't forget to call Da-!' Cas started, but found himself speaking to a dial tone. He glared at the phone in his hand for a few moments; as was usual after talking to Gabe, not entirely sure whether to be annoyed or thankful. After a few minutes contemplation, he grabbed his wallet from the dashboard and set down the main street. Damn it, he was going to get drunk. Nothing else to do anyway.

* * *

 

Dean noticed the odd atmosphere almost as soon as he stepped in the door of Steve's, and not just the usual Thursday mid-afternoon depression either. However, it took walking to the bar and sitting down before he could pinpoint why – it was quiet. Yes, the jukebox rattled on in the corner and the glasses were clanking noisily in the dishwasher beneath the bar, but other than that, nothing. No arguments, no drunken middle-aged women, not even Steve chatting to his kids over the phone. He waved Steve over with a cautious hand, noticing his wary expression.

'What's going on here man, someone died or something?' he asked, trying to keep his tone light and playful. Chances are if somebody had actually died, everyone would have known before lunch time, but still. Steve smiled weakly, and inclined his head towards a usually unoccupied booth by the far window, never a popular choice for the townspeople due to the way the afternoon sun beat down hard on the leather seats.

'He showed up earlier, nobody seems to know him. He's been drinking my spirits dry all afternoon. You got any idea who he is, because honestly I really don't think he can stay here much longer.'

Dean peered over at the booth curiously, and groaned.

Half sprawled across the table and surrounded by empty glasses sat a familiar young, dark haired man with tired but piercing blue eyes and a weary expression. He sighed deeply and picked up his drink. Obviously this evening wasn't quite going to turn out the way he had planned.


	4. Chapter 4

_Got a six-pack of beer and a bottle of wine… It's a small-town Saturday night_

_Hal Ketchum_

 

Dean slid into the booth uncomfortably, shoving some of the empty glasses aside to place his own down on the sticky table. The heat of the leather seats was cloying, and immediately made him think of long, hot days stuck inside cars, unable to stop or get away into the shade for a moments rest, and he suddenly found himself wishing he had gone straight home for a very long and clean shower before heading to the bar.

He shook his head, and stared for a moment at the young man sitting across from him, who had now lowered his head onto the table and had not seemed to notice his presence at all. He was just as striking as he’d looked the day before, barging into the deserted gas station in the middle of the afternoon. Dean cleared his throat, to no response, and finally settled on reaching out to prod the other man's arm where it lay next to his head.

'Hey kid, it's a bit early for this kind of a bender, isn't it?'

Cas mumbled something unintelligible into the table.

'What?'

'I  _said_  do not call me kid.' Cas sat up in one slightly wobbly movement, and squinted across through the bright sunlight, face quickly dropping into a glare once his eyes adjusted. 'Oh wonderful. Just leave me alone. It is not any concern of yours whether I choose to drink or not.' He settled back against the seat.

'I-bu-What?' Dean spluttered, taken aback. 'Dude how are you even conscious enough to sit up? You just drained half of the liquor shelf in about three hours according to Steve over there.'

Cas snorted and picked up a nearby glass, draining the rest of it. 'Let's just say I got a high tolerance' he murmured, 'Runs in the family'.

Dean nodded slowly, leaning back in his seat slightly now it was more obvious that the man opposite was hopefully unlikely to pass out on him. 'Well nobody's saying I can't hold my drink, ki-' Cas cut him off with a glare. 'but you are something else'.

Dean narrowed his eyes across the booth. 'What is your name then anyway? Can't expect me to call you it if I don't know it, can you?'

'Honestly I'd prefer if you didn't call me anything' Cas muttered, running his finger around the rim of the cloudy glass, and sighed. 'It's Castiel'. His eyes snapped up at Dean's repressed snort of laughter. 'I prefer Cas.'

'Yeah man, anyone would.' Dean chuckled, waving his hand over at Steve who was still fretting behind the bar, and nodded at him calmly which seemed to calm the poor man down some. 'Well,  _Cas,_ you realise you scared my friend Steve there pretty good, draining most of his liquor shelf in the middle of the afternoon? Next time maybe mention to him that you're not trying to kill yourself in his fine bar? Cas? HEY!'

Dean lunged forwards, catching Cas by the shoulders as he teetered forwards, face dangerously close to the table full of glasses. 'High tolerance, huh?' he muttered, manoeuvring the limp man back into his own seat with some difficulty. 'You need to go home kid. Hey. Hey!' he clicked his fingers in front of Cas's face, receiving only a bleary half-hearted glare in return. 'Where. Do. You. Live?' he tried, before realising there were no more answers coming his way. He groaned, and glared at Steve across the bar who shrugged sheepishly.

'Great' he muttered, patience for the ridiculous direction this day had gone in quickly wearing thin.

* * *

 

After a rifle through Cas's pockets had produced nothing more than a very new and cheap looking mobile phone, a pack of gum and a driver’s license registered in North Dakota, Dean began to wonder to himself what on earth was happening to his day. Dragging a semi-conscious man through near-deserted streets at 7 in the evening wasn't exactly how he usually spent the average Thursday night.

Still, he mused, at least he'd have a story for Sam tomorrow that wasn't related to the second most exciting thing he'd done that week, which was ordering new tail light covers for the impala on the internet.  _When exactly did my friggin' life get this dull?_ he wondered silently, hitching Cas's arm further over his shoulder, as the other man moaned quietly in response. 'Yeah well, this isn't exactly how I planned my night going either,' Dean muttered under his breath, glaring towards the oak tree than marked the end of his street.

Cas groaned loudly when deposited heavily and entirely ungracefully onto the slightly battered couch in the living room of Dean's apartment, before immediately curling up and burying his face into the cushioned arm. Dean raised an eyebrow at him on returning from the fridge, and nudged the side of his head with the unopened beer in his hand. Nope. Out cold. He stood for a few moments, staring at the stranger taking up space in the living room he'd gotten so used to seeing empty and mostly unused. He shook his head and walked away, flipping the light switch off as he walked, entirely unsettled by his inability to feel annoyed at the intrusion into his personal space by a complete stranger.

His last thoughts before shutting the door to the living room were simple: This could absolutely not be good.


	5. Chapter 5

_Sometimes I dream I'm driving_

_Down an old dirt road, Not even listed on a map_

_Mayberry - The Rascal Flatts_

 

Cas shifted uncomfortably in the tight, curled up position he found himself in, reluctant to open his eyes to the brightness he could feel burning through his lids already. The bed was certainly a lot smaller that he remembered, and honestly, how wasted must he have been to have not even got under the covers?

He buried into the rough fabric beneath his face. Maybe it was the heat (or more likely the copious amounts of spirits he'd stupidly been kidding himself he could manage, a vicious little voice whispered in the back of his head), but for the second night in a row his dreams were getting to be very strange indeed. Full of long roads, spilling over with liquid sunlight tonight, thick as treacle and waist deep as he tried to struggle through it. He yawned, and opened his eyes a crack, still face down in an awkward position where he lay.

_Green_  fabric?

Cas shot up, suddenly more awake than he'd felt since leaving Jamestown. His surroundings flooded into his vision all at once with the bright sunlight from the window. The beat up sofa he had been curled up on, the small TV in the corner of the room, the sole picture above the mantelpiece, and the other assorted features of a room used rarely and by few people. He stood up gingerly, legs cracking loudly from stiffness, and walked towards the fireplace, praying to whatever God was listening that he hadn't been kidnapped by one of his older brothers in the night.

The small photograph in the simple frame that hung there was not old, a few years at most and showed three men grinning awkwardly at the camera, clearly uncomfortable with having their photos taken. An older man stood in the middle with one hand thrust in his pocket and an old baseball cap perched on his head. His right arm was thrown around the shoulders of a boy much taller than him, dressed in a garish blue robe and tightly clutching what must surely be a high school diploma in his hand. Cas squinted at the photo through bleary, sleep-filled eyes, which seemed to be persisting despite his immediate sense of alert at the strange surroundings. To the left of the older man stood another young man, a little shorter than the graduating boy with short brown hair. His smile was wide but didn't quite reach his eyes, and even the freckles scattered across his face failed to lend him the child-like aspect that shone brightly from the other boy. Some distant cog clicked into place deep in Cas's brain. No…

'You're awake.' a voice from behind him made Cas jump, and spin to face the door. How could a door that cheap not creak when it was opened? He glared towards the figure that stood there rather awkwardly, holding an unopened bottle of water. Dean raised his eyebrows at the excessively hostile reception, and held out the bottle. 'Figured you might be wanting this?' Still no reaction from the other man, who had almost frozen into place upon turning around.

'Well… okay then. You can find your way out' Dean tossed the water bottle onto the couch and turned to leave, wondering why on earth he hadn't made coffee  _before_  attempting conversation with the weird stranger from North Dakota who had passed out on his couch the night before.

'Wait.' Cas croaked, his voice much scratchier than he remembered. He coughed, and Dean nodded towards the bottle on the couch. He picked it up and took a grateful gulp, before carefully tightening the lid again and placing it onto the side table next to him. 'Where am I?' he tried again, pleased to find his voice a little stronger.

Dean laughed. 'You don't remember?' Cas started, and shook his head violently. He shut his eyes, preparing himself for the worst. Dean frowned. 'Hey, it's fine. I'm not surprised, with the amount of Jack you managed to get through last night.' He sat down on the couch. 'Not really a long story. You drank Steve's Place half dry, passed out at the table and since nobody knew where you lived and you were freaking people the hell out, I dragged you back here. Figured I'd give you some coffee and sober you up enough to get yourself home, but you passed out here on the couch when I went to brew it.'

He cleared his throat, glancing up at Cas who still looked like he was ready to pass out again, eyes half closed as he swayed slightly by the fireplace. 'I've dragged the odd member of the town back to their houses on occasion they have too much to drink… it's not a big deal' he muttered, almost ready to give up on this kid. He stood up and held his hand out to Cas, who opened his eyes quickly and stared at it, then looked up at Dean.

'Thank you' Cas muttered, barely audible, but not taking the proffered hand in front of him. 'I - I don't think I remember hearing your name at any point?' Dean smiled slightly. He must just be embarrassed about over-doing it. Either that, or there was something he was seriously missing from this situation.

'It's Dean.' Cas opened his mouth to reply, but Dean sniggered and held up his hand. 'I caught yours,  _Castiel_. You want coffee?' Cas shut his mouth and nodded dumbly, following Dean through into the kitchen slowly, willing his feet to move normally.

* * *

 

Sat at the tiny kitchen table with mugs of black coffee, Dean was feeling much better about the situation as a whole. Yes, the weird kid still hadn't said another word, and was staring at his coffee like he was scared of drowning in it, but all in all, it could have gone much worse. Heck knows he'd had worse mornings, anyway, and at least the coffee was good.

He looked up across the table at Cas, who was now staring straight over at him in an unnerving way. Dean gulped down the last dregs of coffee and set the mug back down. 'So. North Dakota, eh?' Cas frowned slightly, brow furrowing as if trying to work something out. 'I er, saw your licence. Trying to find out where you lived… I put it back' Dean trailed off lamely, starting to become uncomfortable at the lack of responses he was getting. Usually all people did was talk at him.

'Jamestown' Cas answered quietly, taking a tentative sip of his coffee. Dean could have cried with relief; at least he wasn't talking to himself anymore.

'Yeah, I've been.' Cas raised an eyebrow. 'Used to travel a lot. Sam and I - that's my little brother - we were sort of army brats for a while. Stayed in North Dakota for about six months at one point I think.'

The silence that followed was broken by a high-pitched ringing from Cas's pocket. He grabbed his phone and sighed after glancing at the name on the screen, and stood up.

'I'm sorry, I should take this' he said quietly, as Dean nodded and waved him out of the kitchen to the equally silent hallway. Picking up the empty mugs he made his way over to the sink, and paused near the door, wondering who would be calling at 8 in the morning to justify a private call. Cas's voice floated in, suddenly as articulate as he'd heard last night.

'Yes, I got your messages… Because I didn't feel I had to, okay? Didn't Gabe tell you I arrived safe…? Yes. Yes, I'm aware… No I don't want to talk to him at all… Uriel, you know exactly why… No. No. Goodbye.'

Dean hurried over to the sink and threw the cups down, trying to look busy. He glanced casually over his shoulder to see Cas pocketing his phone again and glaring at him without any real malice. 'I know you were listening' he muttered. Dean shook his head, wiping his hands off on a nearby tea towel.

'Come on man. Castiel?  _Uriel_? I'm starting to wonder if I'm being punked here.' Cas frowned again, tiny creases appearing between his eyebrows, and then sighed. 'My family are… devout' he started, before shaking his head. 'It's a long story.'

Dean nodded. 'Yeah, well, I got plenty of those.' he grabbed his coat from the back of the chair and gestured towards the front door. 'You comin'? I gotta get to work and you gotta show me where you live for the next time you decide to pass out on me.'

Cas nodded weakly, and followed the other man out into the warm heat of the road outside. The oak tree that marked where his car was resting in the shade caught his eye just a few feet away from the door of the ground floor apartment, and he almost smiled. Maybe today was going to be better than the confusing morning had promised.


	6. Chapter 6

_Once I rose above the noise and confusion_

_Just to get a glimpse beyond this illusion_

_I was soaring ever higher_

_But I flew too high_

 

The car was halfway back to Gloria's house and chugging along fairly well in the relative cool of the morning before Cas even let himself wonder if he'd said anything to Dean before bolting away and jumping into the car. Probably not, he surmised, quite impressed with himself with how well he'd handled the morning in general.

Ok, so maybe well wasn't quite the right word, all things considered.

He let out a breath and forced himself to relax as he slowed down, foot threatening dangerously to tense up over the accelerator. The radio had been flickering on and off since he'd started up the engine without being told to, and fragments of unfamiliar country and rock songs filtered through the otherwise silent air. It wasn't entirely unpleasant, he thought, or at least it wouldn't be on another morning that hadn't began with him waking up from a drunken stupor on an attractive stranger’s couch.

Unable to suppress the groan that escaped him at the thought, Cas pulled into the driveway of the house, head still pounding despite the coffee he’d managed to force down. One of the decent things about it at least was the privacy - right at the top of a rather intimidating sloped street, Gloria's old house stood proud and almost entirely alone but for one or two houses dotted around the streets on the way up. He turned off the engine and leant his head on the warm surface of the steering wheel in front of him. Yep, this was probably the part he should be cursing himself blasphemously and violently for likely alienating the one person who had shown him anything close to kindness since he'd arrived in this stupid place.

His phone buzzed quietly in his pocket, and Cas reached for it, resolving to throw it straight out of the window if Uriel's name was in the Caller ID again.

Oh.

'Hello Gabriel'

'Hellooo, little brother' a voice sung back at him cheerfully, much more animated than anyone had a right to be at such an ungodly hour of the day. 'Didn't wake you, did I?'

Ah. So he that was his reason for calling. 'Don't waste your time Gabe, I'm not hungover in the slightest, no thanks to your advice. And I've been up for a while.' He could almost hear the pout on the other side of the line.

'Man, you are inhuman, you know that? Did you at least throw up on the sheriff, or kick the town cat or something? My dastardly plan of having you run out of town and be forced to come and keep your dear brother company in the big city is foiled!' he replied, barely seeming to stop for breath.

Cas ran two fingers over the spot between his eyes that always seemed to ache when confronted with Gabriel's energy.

'No, no, and I'm sorry, but absolutely never. You find more than enough of your own company anyway, from what I've heard'

Gabriel tutted back at him. 'Now now, sounding a bit like dear old Daddy there Cas. And besides,' Cas could hear him puffing up with the importance of somebody who just  _knew_ that they were right, 'aren't I right in thinking that you found a little of your own company last night anyhow?'

Cas dropped the phone. Scrambling to retrieve it from beneath the steering column, he held it back against his ear as if it might bite, or suddenly transform into a sophisticated tracking device of some sort.

'What? I… Why on earth would you think that Gabe?' The laughter from the other side of the phone did nothing to calm his heartbeat, shockingly.

'Ah baby brother. You don't really think I'm going to send you off on a bender without keeping some sort of tabs on you, do you? Or do you really think that badly of me?

'I… I don't understand. You tracked me somehow? My phone?'

'God no' Gabe snorted with a disgusted tone, and Cas suddenly remembered a few choice details from his brother's saga of leaving home three years earlier. He'd had to deal with much worse than a few irate phone calls from home every now and then.

'No,' he continued, sounding slightly better, 'there's only one decent joint in that town so I got the number and rang just in case you'd gone in there and drank yourself stupid until you passed out on one of the old drunks or something. I rang, gave them your description and was informed that you had just left a few hours earlier with a certain someone named Dean.' he finished in the same sing-song voice he'd began with, that left Cas wanting to do nothing more than curl up in bed and never look anyone in eye again.

'Isntwhatyouthink' he muttered, somewhat childishly, into the handset.

'I'm sorry WHAT WAS THAT CAS I DIDN'T QUITE GET THAT LAST-'

'It isn't what you think!' Cas hissed back, incredibly glad that Gloria was such an old hermit that her driveway was completely obscured from view of anyone walking up the road. 'He- I got drunk. On my own. He took me with him to sober me up since I haven't changed the address on my licence yet and nobody knew where I lived, then I apparently passed out on his couch and WOULD YOU STOP LAUGHING!"

Gabriel coughed desperately in a pitiful attempt to cover up his sniggering. "Just when I think this situation can't get any better" An insistent beeping suddenly came through over the line "Whoops, that's me, kid. Gotta go!"

"Don't call me kid!" Cas muttered back half-heartedly, but the line was already dead. He sighed, and glared at the radio which was still flickering in and out of static, snatches of lyrics floating through the silence.

 

_Lay your weary head to rest, don't you cry no more_

 

* * *

 

"… So yeah. I turned around and he was already jumping in his car." Dean paused for breath, listening closely for any sign of answering from Sam on the other end of the line. "You still there Sammy?"

"Yeah man, I just don't know what to say" Sam laughed, "I'm happy for you, I guess?"

Dean snorted, shaking his head. "Happy about what, that I managed to freak out the first new person I've actually talked to in about a year? Yeah, awesome."

"No, seriously dude, it's just nice that you made a friend I guess."

"In what world does having someone pass out on your couch then shout at their family over the phone the next morning make them your friend? Actually, don't answer that. I don't want to know what you've been doing at college to put that idea in your head."

Sam sniggered back. "Look Dean, just let me be happy for you. Oh, and Bobby called, he wants to know if you're going to visit him any time soon. Before I forget as well, I wanted to run the dates by you again for…"

Dean zoned out slightly, letting Sam chatter away, and leant back against the cool stone wall of the filling station. Maybe it wasn't the worst idea in the world to try and see how badly he'd freaked out the poor guy. Aside from the general passing out and freaky family crap, he didn't seem so bad, just a bit out of his depth.

Oh man. Dean looked up at the clock on the wall next to him. Could he really close up early twice in one week? Sam started talking about his search for summer accommodation that wasn’t going to cost double what his internship was paying him, and a fly buzzed lazily past his ear, disturbing the absolute silence of the empty room.

Yes. Yes he absolutely could.


	7. Chapter 7 - Letters

_Seems I'm not alone at being alone_   
_A hundred billion castaways_   
_Lookin' for a home_

_Message in a Bottle - Sting_

* * *

~~To~~

~~My dear brother~~

Dear Gabriel,

Sorry that I haven't written in a while. Father has been insisting on my help with all of the weekend and after-school events at church, and I haven't had a minute to sit down in about two weeks. I think he's doing it on purpose, he suspects we still talk. Don't worry though, I would never allow him to see your address, although I have to warn you, I think they know you're not in Chicago anymore since Uriel came back from his trip there last month.

I missed you at Raphael's wedding last week. I know you wouldn't have enjoyed it a bit, but neither did I really. I was stuck showing people to their seats all day, and even then I wasn't supposed to talk to anyone who didn't already know me. Still, it was weird not having you there to laugh at people's stupid hats. Although I saw old Aunt Gloria there, she's not too bad I suppose. She remembered my name at least, and didn't ask me when I was going to be getting married like nearly every other person who noticed me did. Nobody asked where you were. I wonder what Father told them.

I'm still working on finishing the AP classes I started this year. Home school is still horribly boring, especially since Balthazar is finished everything now. He's started work at the church, helping Uriel organize community events and outreach programmes for the nearby towns- not that they're much interested in being reached out to. There's still a chance I can do that introductory teacher training course I was telling you about before you left, if I can manage to convince Father it's because I want to become an ecclesiastic scholar and help him to shape the future young minds of the church. What he doesn't know won't hurt him, right?

I know you're probably getting bored right about now so I'll finish this here. Maybe try to find time in your incredibly busy schedule to remember that not all your brothers are asses and write more than a three sentence postcard back this time, I know you can't possibly be that busy.

Stay safe,

Castiel

* * *

 

~~Dear~~

~~To~~

~~Hey asshole~~

Sammy,

Hope it's ok that I'm writing, wouldn't want to show you up in front of all your new college friends. Just checking that you're settled in okay really. Did you find out all of your semester and holiday dates yet?

The house feels weird without having to trip over twenty different books on the way out to the front door. It's too quiet, man. The garage is fine, Bobby was down for a few days last week after we left you in Memphis. I know you're only down the road but he said to remember that we're just here if you need anything brought down or collecting or whatever.

~~We miss you.~~

~~Come back home. It's too boring being here on my own now.~~

~~Are you really not coming back?~~

See you at Christmas break I guess. Don't be wasting all of your time on studying, you'll kill yourself with one of those law dictionaries someday. And by that, I mean I will. You're making us proud though whatever you do man, just remember that.

See ya soon,

Dean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a brief interlude. Letters sent around 3 years before the beginning of 'Someday'.


	8. Chapter 8

_A heavy rain a fallin'_

_Seems I hear your voice callin'_

_"It's all right"_

 

_Rainy Night in Georgia – Randy Crawford_

 

It was barely approaching dusk when the rain started. Cas, unpacking a box with particularly odd contents (so far the elusive coffee maker, four tubes of toothpaste and a bible had emerged from it, each object further mocking his ridiculous lack of packing skills) at first took the noise to be the ancient fridge thrumming away in the next room.

It took the entire living area lighting up in a sudden flash of white light for him to look up and notice the pounding rain bouncing off the window pane with a vengeance. He stood up and rushed over, mouth falling open at the sight. The house at the top of the dusty hill now stood at the top of what looked more like a miniature waterfall. The car, previously caked in a week's worth of dust and dirt from the drive south, now gleamed happily in the driveway, looking cleaner than it had in years. Cas shook his head, hardly believing the sight. The dried up bushes on either side of the door looked just about ready to spontaneously burst into flower right there and then.

Half an hour later, when the storm showed no signs of stopping any time soon, Cas put down the boxes of random objects and sat down for a break. It wasn't too bad, sitting in the no longer scorching hot house watching the sky outside grow darker with clouds and listening to the radio attempt to pick up a signal that wasn't loaded with static.

Rain had never been his favourite kind of weather, but at least it was better than being stifled by the never-ending Southern heat. It made the car journey back from town that morning seem a million miles away, speeding away with the windows down and no jacket on, even then too hot in the early morning sun. He hadn't really needed to wear his jacket since stepping out of the car at the garage for the first time a few days earlier, although habit kept it close to him regardless.

Wait. For that matter, he hadn't even  _seen_ his jacket since the night before. The jacket with his ID and wallet in it. Cas scanned the room quickly, littered with half-unpacked boxes and a distinct lack of jacket. A quick check of the kitchen, sole bedroom and bathroom confirmed the rising fear in his chest – this little house was very empty of a jacket of any kind right now.

Cursing under his breath, he stormed through to the hallway and paused at the door, bracing himself for the dash across the drenched garden path to the car. Opening the door, Cas took a deep breath, closed his eyes, and splashed out into the soaking darkness.

* * *

 

Thanks to Sam's quick thinking in calling him as soon as the rain had hit Memphis, Dean had managed to park the car in a rarely used indoor garage down the road from his house and get inside before the storm really started - but only just. About ten minutes after he'd walked in the door, not even enough time for the coffee pot on the kitchen counter to have really brewed, the type of rain that Bobby always called the holy onslaught really began to pummel the pavements outside.

Of course they'd seen plenty of these sort of storms before. It was just too hot and too humid in the summer months to not encounter a good number of thunderstorms. And while they didn't come too often so as to ruin the hot weather streaks, when they did come, they came bad. Summer monsoons showed up every so often as well, lasting a few days and leaving everything slightly damp and sticky for a few weeks afterward.

A low rumble of thunder shook the sky outside as Dean sat with his coffee at the table, watching the sky darken quicker and quicker through the small window. He wondered how Sam was doing. He'd sounded ok on the phone, but it was no secret that he had always hated thunderstorms in any shape or size. Back when their Dad was still around they'd spent the record-breaking hurricane summer of 2005 in Louisiana traveling around cheap motels with leaky roofs, which was enough to make anybody nervous of storms. Any shopping trip that ended in being evacuated by the National Guard from a flooded street in Thibodaux was never going to leave pleasant childhood memories to dwell on afterwards.

The sky outside continued to darken steadily, and Dean was in the middle of considering whether or not he should call Sam back, when a very out-of-place noise trilled through the kitchen; so out of place that Dean's first thought was whether or not he had left the TV on in the bedroom. The doorbell rang again and he stood up, hurrying towards the front door.

He flung open the door and found Cas, shivering and huddled up right onto the pitiful shelter of the doorstep, dripping water from every appendage.

'Are you  _insane?_ ' Dean hissed, grabbing the front of Cas's sodden shirt and hauling him into the passageway, the wind slamming the door shut of its own accord behind them. 'Like, do you actually have a death wish? Because that's your own business dude, just stop trying to pin it on me!'

He stormed down to the hall closet, pulled out a towel and threw it towards the shivering man behind him. Cas caught it gratefully, drying off his face and head before looking back up to reply and seeing only an empty hallway ahead of him. He peered around into the nearest door, where Dean was slamming around the kitchen, seemingly putting coffee on to boil. He followed through the door tentatively and cleared his throat.

'I'm sorry to bother you. It's just that I believe I may have left a jacket here when I er - when you brought me here last night.' Dean turned to stare at him. 'I can just collect it and be on my way.' Cas finished, faltering slightly under the look he was receiving. 'What?' he asked defensively, hoping that he wasn't about to be thrown straight back out into the storm without as much as the return of his coat. Dean shook his head disbelievingly.

'You drove across town - you did drive here right, please god tell me you didn't walk?' Cas nodded. 'You drove across town at 7 o clock at night in the beginnings of a goddamn storm - to get your jacket.' Dean put down the half-filled coffee pot he was holding, staring ahead with an odd look on his face that was starting to make Cas rather anxious.

'Um. Dean? Are you okay?' Cas ventured after a few moments. Dean looked up at Cas's face, head tilted slightly to one side and eyebrows pulled together in confusion - and lost it. He burst out laughing so suddenly that Cas jumped violently. Sides shaking, he shook his head and grinned at him.

'Castiel, I don't know about you, but I think I need a beer.'

* * *

 

The storm gathered strength for another hour or so, the rain gradually picking up intensity until it bounced in arches half a foot high from the concrete sidewalk outside. After a quick search of the living room Cas found his jacket rolled into a crumpled ball and shoved down the side of the sofa, an action he could only attribute to his own drunken self.

After having a bottle of dark beer, then a hot cup of coffee, then a collection of stern looks and lectures on the dangers of driving in thunderstorms thrust towards him, he stopped talking about leaving and settled down into a reasonably comfortable armchair while Dean fiddled around with the gas fireplace, trying to get it to turn up. The TV hummed quietly in the background, the rolling headlines of the local news flickering on and off as the old set struggled to retain power through the flashes of lightning outside.

It was oddly domestic, and as the muted rain continued to beat down onto the double glazing, Cas felt himself relax properly for the first time in a few days. Dean burned his hand on an oddly shaped bit of metal and swore loudly, and Cas shut his eyes, leaning back in the chair and feeling for the first time, a touch of the peace he'd been searching for in Jericho wash over him.


	9. Chapter 9

_I don't need you to worry for me 'cause I'm alright_

_I don't want you to tell me it's time to come home,_

_I don't care what you say anymore this is my life_

_Go ahead with your own life, leave me alone._

_My Life - Billy Joel_

The rain did not last forever, although the possibility crossed every citizen in Jericho's mind at least once during that long night. The clouds soon cleared, leaving behind roofs to be repaired, tattered gardens in dire need of tidying, and a much refreshed looking town and inhabitants. Cas left Dean's sodden home late the next day with an equally refreshed outlook - the sun was attempting to shine again, much cooler and less intense than before, and for the first time in a long time the previous night, he had actually been relaxed and calm with a bright immediate future to look forward to.

Once the phone lines had started working again early in the morning, Dean had been inundated with calls from those who hadn't been lucky enough to park their cars and trucks indoors the previous day, all promising good money if he could help them rescue their water-logged vehicles. Cas had mentioned casually the night before that he wasn't in with any chance of a job until at least the fall, so a mutually beneficial solution had been worked out between them. As soon as the rain had properly cleared, Cas would start work at the filling station three days a week, for the small amount of money Dean could afford to pay him, in order to give Dean more time to work on the other side of business that the garage offered.

Dean had stressed that the actual work was boring and too often entirely non-existent, but Cas was still unreasonably happy with the offer, and spent most of the night offering awkward thank-yous and silently wondering what he could have possibly done to change the opinion of a man who was so surly originally. Their conversations wandered lightly over the hours, neither willing to divulge too much personal information, until Cas had eventually drifted off to sleep in the armchair by the window, curled up like a ruffled cat, hair still damp from the storm.

Dean simply sat close to the radio, which was struggling through old classic rock songs in between lapses into plain static, often silently wondering why he had yet again welcomed this strange man into his home and now even further into his life. Much as he hated to admit it, Sam might have a point. Did really he just need some freaking friends?

When Cas left in the morning, the house somehow seemed emptier than ever, a feeling which Dean was quick to bury as he prepared to gather up his personal tools from the unused garage where the impala sat, looking rather lonely for once. It had been more than three days since he'd worked on it he realised suddenly, another unwelcome thought. He stood up in a hurry, foot knocking against several empty bottles of scotch piled up next to the rear bumper. Dean winced slightly, and kicked them ungracefully out of sight.

Something was definitely crying out to be changed in his miserable life, he thought grimly as he locked up the house.  _Maybe I should just start shutting up and let it happen- whatever it might be._

* * *

 

The next week passed quicker than ever before for Cas, his head full of new responsibility at finally having a job that didn't involve working for his father or spreading the word of a holy book he wasn't even sure he trusted himself. With Dean's slightly confused help, he'd managed to purchase a newer and more modern cell phone at a store in town with a new number, which he gave only to Gabriel and Dean, bringing the number of address book contacts he had in the whole world to a whole two people.

The peace that came with absolute silence from his brothers and father was both amazingly good and slightly disconcerting. His silence suddenly became filled with music from the tinny radio he had brought from his aunt's house to the gas station during the day, tentative conversation with the locals who were very slowly accepting him as part of the community - he suspected Dean's influence was a large part of it, but who was he to complain - and the buzzing of insects flying in and out of the quiet shop on warm afternoons.

It had been a week since he had agreed to work for Dean, and a particularly quiet afternoon when the phone rang, loud and shrill in the empty space. Cas hurried over, slightly nervous as he picked up the unfamiliar handset, the ever-lurking fear that Raphael had somehow now figured out where he was working haunting the back of his mind as he cleared his throat to speak.

'Winchester Gas, how can I help?'

'Dean?'

Cas let out a breath he hadn't even realised he'd been holding. The voice was unfamiliar.

'He isn't here until tomorrow, can I take a message?'

'Oh right, of course. You must be Cas!' the voice suddenly became far less confused, and more animated. Cas started, defensive mechanisms automatically rising, and his formality levels alongside them.

'I'm sorry, to whom am I speaking?'

'Sorry man, should have said. I'm Sam, I'm Dean's brother. He usually calls about this time of day but I figured I'd call him for once since I had something to tell him. He did tell me he was out fixing on Thursdays now, I just er, dialled the shop out of habit I guess.'

'Oh, of course.' Cas paused awkwardly, not sure if he should just say goodbye and hang up. 'Dean mentioned you once, and I saw a picture of you in his house.'

Damn. Now his brother knew he'd been to his house, if he hadn't known already.

'Oh that old thing, I wish he'd get a newer one' Sam laughed easily, sounding for all the world as if he was talking to an old friend. 'Listen man, sorry to bother you. I'll call Dean's cell and try get him on that.'

'Oh, erm, it's no bother, really,' Cas stammered awkwardly. 'Sorry I couldn't help with anything.'

'Hey, it was nice talking to you.' Sam laughed, as he hung up the phone.

Cas replaced the handset, feeling slightly confused at what had just happened. Should he telephone Dean and let him know, or just let Sam call him himself? Eventually after hovering by the phone for a few more minutes, he came to a decision and returned to his seat behind the counter. No point getting involved in things that didn't concern him.

* * *

 

Dean's phone buzzed irritatingly on the floor next to where he was halfway under a car. He pulled himself out and wiped his hands on a nearby rag, before picking up his phone with a sigh.

**From: SAMMY 13.09**

**Does he always sound so nervous, or am I just particularly intimidating over the phone? x**

Dean stared at the text for a few seconds, before deciding that nope, he had absolutely no idea what that meant at all. He typed back a quick reply requesting that Sam tell him what the hell he was talking about, in slightly shorter words. His reply came back even quicker as Dean was chugging down a bottle of water.

**From: SAMMY 13.11**

**I just don’t think your new 'friend' likes me very much, is all. I think I scared him. Are you calling later? I have news x**

Dean glared down at his phone, wondering whether or not he even had the right to get mad at Sam for what amounted to spying on Cas. Hell, he wasn't the boy's mother. He typed back another blunt reply, then turned his phone on silent. It was a while before he checked it again, and when he did he had to read back through the messages before he even realised what Sam was on about at all.

**FROM: Dean 13.15**

**Dammit, leave the poor kid alone, would you? I’ll call tonight, busy right now.**

**From: SAMMY 13.25**

**Ha. No longer objecting to having him as a friend then I see. He must have done something right then. Talk later x**


	10. Chapter 10

_I learned to live without all kinds of trouble_  
_Still I'm lonely as a cloud when he drifts in_  
_I guess you never can tell what the wind will bring_

_In Jericho the walls fell down, so why can't I let mine go now?_

_Jericho - Greta Graines_

 

It had been quite a few days since he'd last been to Steve's bar, Dean realised as he walked through the door, dusk gathering speed quickly outside in the late summer afternoon. A few locals nodded at him as he walked past, before turning back to their poker game. Once upon a time he might have joined them, but after spending more and more time at home and places other than the bar lately, it just didn't feel quite right to sit down with them.

Steve grinned over at him as he sat down at the bar, setting the dishwasher to run before coming over. The bar was pretty empty, just the poker playing group by the door and a couple of men sitting on the other side of the bar.

'Hey stranger, you here for a drink or just dropping in?'

Dean laughed. 'It's only been like, four days man. Give me a break, I've been busy fixing a hell of a lot of water damage this past week.' He took the beer that Steve had uncapped and offered to him. 'It's not too bad though, I've got Cas at the shop a few days a week now so at least I don't have to close up altogether next time a storm hits.'

Steve nodded. 'I've been meaning to ask about that, if I'm gonna be honest.'

Dean raised a questioning eyebrow in response.

'People have been wondering… what's his story?' Steve continued nervously, and the two men sitting at the other side of the bar pretended very badly to not be eavesdropping.

Dean shook his head. 'You're asking me; I'm not even sure I want to know.' He took a long drink. 'He doesn't speak to his family, except one brother, and up until last month he'd hardly set foot outside of Jamestown, North Dakota in his whole life. That's pretty much all I've been told.'

Steve laughed at that. 'And this is the first place he comes? No wonder you get on so well, he must have a screw loose.'

'We don't get on  _well_ , we just get on. You sound like Sammy.' Dean drained the bottle in one last gulp. 'It's weird man. He's just… a bit odd. Sometimes he looks at things like he can't quite understand what they are, or he can't seem to remember. I had to help him buy a cell phone last week because he'd never been in a phone store before. He's always looking over his shoulder, like he's waiting for somebody to jump up behind him. If I were you, I'd wait a bit longer before you start asking him what he's up to, or he might just disappear right off and never come back.'

By now the two men at the bar were openly staring at the bartender and his customer. Steve glared at them, and abashed, they turned their faces back to their bottles. He cleared his throat and turned back to Dean, who was staring into the empty space in front of him, an odd look on his face.

'If you say so.' Steve agreed, finally replying. 'You seem to know him a lot better than you think, if you ask me.'

Dean started, and looked up, defences springing up instinctively. 'Yeah well, I didn't ask you.' He murmured, and stood up, suddenly feeling like he would rather be anywhere else. He mumbled a quick goodbye to Steve and brushed past the poker game, walking briskly into the darkening street outside. The heat had never quite picked up as much to the level it had been at before the storm, and the air carried just a hint of the end of summer in it now as it blew a few stray leaves down the empty street in front of him.

Funny, Dean thought, shoving his hands in his pockets against the slight chill of the air. It'd been such a long time since anyone new had moved into town, and all it had seemed to do was make him even lonelier than he had been before. It felt like forever since he'd actually wanted to go to the bar, and now that he had, it just didn't feel right. Something had definitely changed, and he wasn't sure at all that he was happy with it.

He glanced at his watch and groaned - not even eight pm yet. Far too early to justify going home and drinking alone. He thought for a moment, hand toying with his cell phone in his pocket, then with the lame courage of the one beer he'd had so far gathering in his stomach, he pulled it out and tapped out a quick message before he could talk himself out of it.

* * *

 

Cas had been attempting to figure out his new vacuum cleaner, still shiny new from the hardware store in town, when his phone beeped loudly at him. It was still a fairly new experience to have people talk to him without being prompted first, so he dropped the unfamiliar looking bit of pipe that he was holding and hurried over to the kitchen counter. The radio played a local station quietly in the background as he walked over - he still couldn't quite get into the TV, not really seeing what was so interesting in the loud soap operas and gaudy chat shows, but the quiet background music of the radio had slowly seeped into his life over the past few weeks, and he didn't quite feel right without it now. He picked up his phone and read the message.

**FROM: DEAN 19.48**

**You busy?**

Cas frowned. The only messages he'd had from Dean so far had been to do with the filling station or similar mundane topics. He quickly typed back a negative reply, fingers hesitating slightly over the modern touch-screen. He still couldn't quite get used to it. It wasn't long before his phone beeped with a reply.

**FROM: DEAN 20.05**

**Me neither.**

Cas stared at his hand, wondering whether or not he should even reply to that. Was this just idle conversation, or was he supposed to be getting something else from this exchange? He had just put down his phone and walked away, resolving to find something for dinner that wasn’t straight out of a box, when the phone buzzed and beeped again.

**FROM: DEAN 20.20**

**I think I got the right house. Open the door?**

Thoroughly alarmed now, Cas marched over to the front door and threw it open. Outside, just shy of the driveway, sat a battered looking old black car, sputtering as it sat there with the engine still running. It had probably once been a good-looking machine, but it had definitely seen better days. Dean, sat in the driver’s seat, waved nonchalantly and raised an eyebrow, indicating Cas should come outside and join him. Cas gaped for a few seconds, before nodding slowly and closing the door behind him. He walked over and got in at the passenger side, wincing at the grinding noise the door made as he pulled it open. He glanced over nervously at Dean, not sure what on earth he should say, and awkwardly cleared his throat.

'Are we, um. Did you want to go to the filling station for something?' Cas tried weakly. Dean smiled over at him, looking tired. He patted the steering wheel gently and leaned his head back against the seat.

'I was thinking more like the lake.' He said quietly. 'I've got a six-pack in the trunk. You interested?'

Cas wondered briefly if this was what they meant on those inane chat shows when they talked about people having 'breakdowns', but quickly nodded, noticing how the other man's eyes seemed to relax significantly once he did. They set off down the hill with the rickety grace of a mine cart, the car groaning unhappily at the steep decline as they barreled down the almost empty streets towards the edge of town.

* * *

 

'It was my dad's you know.'

Cas started, looking over at where Dean was sitting a foot or so away from him on the grass. The beer cans sat in-between them as they half-lay, propped up against the side of the car. Dean nodded, and tilted his head up to look at the clear sky above them, now fully approaching darkness.

'1967 Chevy Impala, bought second-hand but in pretty perfect condition in Kansas not long after it was made. Automatic transmission, power steering, 396 Big Block engine. He used to say, car like this'd be with you until the day you die.' He sighed and drained the can in his hand.

'I’m inclined to agree with him.' Cas supplied quietly, understanding that there was more to this than he had originally thought.

'Six years ago last week, he was it driving down Highway 40 on his way back from a job in Nashville.' Dean looked over at Cas, who was trying to hide the fact he looked slightly confused.

'I thought you said he was in the army?' Cas asked quickly, trying not to interrupt too much.

'He was, for a while. Then he got himself kicked out, semi-honorable discharge when I was 12, never did quite find out why. After than he starting taking on whatever he could to get by, make sure Sammy and I were okay; mostly ended up doing private detective work for people who couldn't afford to hire a real one. Dirty work, shit hours, but it put a roof over our heads most of the time.' He cracked open another can and took a long gulp from it.

'It was 3 in the morning, roads should have been deserted. Wasn't even raining, visibility was just fine. Just before the turn off into Memphis, a 40 ton truck came out of nowhere ploughed into him from behind, turned out later the driver'd had a fit or something. Killed him instantly.'

They sat in silence for a few seconds, both staring out at the dark lake in front of them.

'I'm sorry.' Cas finally said, putting down his drink to one side. Dean shook his head.

'You shouldn't be. Guy was a bastard while he was alive, not many missed him afterwards. Mom died way back, Sammy was too young to really care, and I couldn't stand him. Bobby was pretty much his only friend - you know, the guy who called the other day?' Cas nodded, remembering when he had answered the phone in the garage to the gruff sounding man.

'Well Bobby was more of a dad to us than he ever was. Still is, really. He runs a salvage yard in South Dakota, we stayed with him for a bit before he set me up here with the garage five years ago. Good man, Bobby. Always made sure Sammy kept focused on school and all that.'

Cas nodded, looking over at Dean properly for the first time since they'd sat down on the damp grass. He looked grim, rather than sad, and like he didn't quite understand what he was saying.

'They sent the car to Bobby afterwards, since he ran the yard and all. He didn't want it, said it had too many ghosts, so he gave it to me. Towed it all the way down here just because I asked him to, and it was pretty much just a heap of metal then.'

'It's a bit better now.' Cas smiled slightly, reaching back and patting the heavily dented bumper behind their heads. 'Could almost pass for scrap.'

'You try getting parts in a town like this' Dean snapped back playfully, a hint of a lop-sided smile playing at his mouth. He sighed and shuffled down on the grass so he was lying down completely. 'I should have sold it for scrap years ago, I know that. I just... there's something about it. It reminds me of when things were different. Even when things were crap, I think... you can't help but want just a little bit of them back sometimes.'

'I hear that.' Cas mumbled, watching as a lone firefly danced just above the water's edge in front of them. Dean leant up on one elbow and stared over at the man next to him.

'So.' Cas looked away from the bug. 'You know mine. What's your story? I got nothing but time, and it'd be nice if it was less depressing than mine, because getting bummed out over my own crappy life gets boring sometimes.' Cas smiled half-heartedly and shook his head.

'Believe me Dean, you really don't want to know.' Dean shook his head right back and reached over, pulling Cas's arm so he fell down to lie close to him on the cool earth.

'I'm in no hurry, and I’ve probably heard worse. Shoot.'


	11. Chapter 11

_And I'm damned if I do and I'm damned if I don't_

_So here's to drinks in the dark at the end of my road_

_And I'm ready to suffer and I'm ready to hope_

_It's a shot in the dark aimed right at my throat_

_'Cause looking for heaven, found the devil in me_

 

_Shake It Out - Florence + The Machine_

 

Cas sighed, fiddling with the grass beneath his fingers. Glancing to his right, Dean was staring up at the darkening sky peacefully, green eyes bright in the half darkness of the lakeside.

‘You sure?’ Cas murmured, dragging his gaze away to stare upwards as well. ‘It’s not exactly straightforward. I don’t want you to get dragged into things you don’t wanna be a part of.’ A light nudge in his side made him drop his head back down to face the man next to him.

‘Cas. I wouldn’t have asked if I didn’t wanna know.’

Cas took a deep breath. ‘Okay then. Can I just – one thing though. Can I just get it all out without any questions, first?’ Dean nodded, holding his hand over his own mouth solemnly, eyes dancing. Cas looked away.

'From as far back as I can remember, my life and the lives of the people have been focused on one thing, and one thing only - God. My father ran - well, still runs - a fiercely evangelical church on the outskirts of Jamestown, North Dakota. My mother died when I was very young, but I have a very large family, made even bigger by the closeness of the church 'family' that my father has always insisted on.’

I’m the youngest of seven siblings - Raphael, Uriel, Zachariah, Inias, Gabriel, Balthazar and me. Raphael, Uriel and Zachariah are now high-profile lawyers and figures of authority in the church. I'm told that Jamestown College is almost entirely dependent on donations from religious organizations, and I'd bet my life that at least 80% of that comes directly from my brothers. Inias lives in Bismarck with his wife, running a state-wide evangelical TV channel. He also runs a Christian camp for ‘troubled’ children in the summer months, although I understand he's thinking of expanding that into a nationwide business – god help us. I haven't seen him in almost two years.’

Cas paused a moment, sitting up slowly to take a sip from the beer in his hand. Dean, to his credit, did not interrupt. ‘Balthazar is closest to me in age and once in friendship, there's barely a year between us. He and I were responsible for spreading the word of God in youngsters our own age, a job we both hated with a passion. Unfortunately, he did have a natural talent for it, and was always most comfortable when he had an audience to talk to. We fell out when I decided - well, I'll get to that.’

He sighed, looking over at the edge of the water where it lapped gently onto the small beach down past the grass verge they had stopped on. ‘You'll notice I missed out Gabriel. Most people in my family tend to, if they can help it. He used to be my father's golden boy - he ran the church Sunday School, produced the community pamphlets, basically acted as an approachable face for the entire operation. That is, until my father started to notice tiny things going wrong. Children from the Sunday school were writing essays on bible stories with twists in them, things that never graced the pages of any bible. The choir started constantly giggling behind the curtains during mass, and the collection plate seemed to always come back half full of candy wrappers and gum rather than heaped with its usual money. Congregation numbers never went down, so nobody could directly point the finger at him, but my brothers grew suspicious of Gabe, and heaped blame on his back. They made up lies about him and made sure they reached my father's ears.’

The fireflies were beginning to grow in number now, gathering to dance around the water’s edge, lending a warm glow to the view ahead of them. ‘Then one morning I woke up and he was just gone. Disappeared in the night, which is no mean feat in a house as full and alert as ours was. My father dispatched Uriel and Raphael to find him and bring him back, and although they came extremely close to finding him several times, he always managed to avoid them. That was when my father decided to publicly disown him - he organised a special service and spent an entire hour and a half telling the congregation how his own son was the devil incarnate and should be reported to the police on sight for a hundred made up offences - all because he'd had the courage to escape. I saw him for who he really was that day - a mean, obsessive, sad man who, should I allow it, would happily control every aspect of my life down to the last detail until the day I died.’

‘Well it's been nearly four years now since Gabe left, and I managed to start contacting him around a year after he left. Never very much or for very long, but it was enough to build my confidence. He wrote to me with tales of the huge cities and tiny rural towns he travelled through, and I took college classes in secret during my home school lessons. I managed to convince my father than I wanted to become a religious studies teacher in order to take some teacher training certifications at the local community college, and even then I was driven there and back by one of my brothers. Balthazar and I were under constant supervision from the very moment that Gabriel left, and it was suffocating.

Cas chanced a look to his right. Dean was watching him, all hard jaw and soft eyes. He was beautiful, framed from behind in the mix of dipped headlights from the car and the dim moonlight emerging over the water.

‘I decided about six months ago that I was leaving. I wrote to an old Aunt of mine who had always been slightly sceptical of the way my father chose to organize his family, and found out that she was planning on leaving her home in order to move in with her son in her old age. We made an arrangement, but she insisted on telling my father about it, sympathetic as she was. Of course he went ballistic at first - forbidding me from setting foot outside the house unless I wanted to end up the same way as Gabriel, but after a while - and honestly, I'm not sure how to this day - he seemed to come around to the idea. I told him that I would be staying in this town, small and far away from the evil and corruption of the big city, and teaching at a small religious school in the area. I think he saw me as a figure sort of like Inias, spreading the word of God away from home while still connected to it. I went along with it, encouraging his delusions. He’s old now, and leaves most of the running of the church to my brothers, who thankfully, still see me as more or less harmless.’

‘Balthazar was the exception.’ Cas faltered slightly, voice catching at the painful recollection. ‘About a month before I left I confessed my real feelings to him - I think he was on my side until I told him that I wasn't even sure if I believed in God anymore. That was where I lost him, and no matter how much I begged him to leave with me, he wouldn't listen. He agreed not to say anything to the others, but refused to have anything to do with me after that.’

Cas pulled himself together, gulping down the rest of the beer. ‘Nobody helped me pack, or came to see me off when I left. I filled up a car I'd scrimped and saved to buy with my things from the room I shared my entire life with Balthazar; they barely filled the trunk, I had to stop at a dozen stores on my way here just to have enough personal items to fill Gloria’s stupid tiny house. I taped my cell phone number to the fridge and drove out of town at dawn without so much as a goodbye from my family, and didn't answer a single one of their calls until the morning after the first night I spent at your house. Uriel wanted to know if I had secured a teaching position yet - I can only hope that my answers were sufficient and enough to quell any suspicions they might have.’

He stopped, leaning back down from his elbows onto the grass, which was feeling cooler by the minute as the last touches of sun well and truly sunk out of sight. Dean exhaled heavily, shaking his head.

‘Cas, man. I knew there was something weird going on, but christ. That’s messed up.’

Cas snorted softly, nodding. ‘One way to describe it, yeah. Well, you know the rest, pretty much. I changed my phone number so they couldn't keep bothering me. They don't have Gloria's address, or anything other than knowing which town I'm in, which is frankly, a lot more than I wish they knew.’

‘So you’re just going to stay here? On your own?’

‘Dean, before I came here, 99% of all the people I'd spoken to in my life had either been family members, church members or people I was forced to try and recruit, who would more often than not laugh in my face before I even opened my mouth. I hated being on my own, but I hated my family more, so it was really a choice of which was the lesser evil overall. I didn't have my own bank account, had never slept in a room that I didn't have to share with at least one of my brothers - I had never even owned a cell until the day I left home.’

Dean nodded, propping himself up on his side warily, looking over at the man across from him. The quiet stillness of the water beside them seemed to soothe the silence. Cas turned to meet his eyes, pleading deep within them – for what though, Dean couldn’t quite place.

‘I know this place isn't New York or Chicago or LA, but it's what I need right now. I'm not Gabriel, I couldn't survive on my own in a place like that in the state I’m in now. All I want to do is lead a quiet life where I can help people who need help, and maybe… maybe have some friends. I don't think it's too much to ask.'

They lay side by side in perfect silence, listening to the rustle of the gentle breeze dusting over the top of the lake for some time, the impala protecting them from the wind's ever-cooling bite behind their heads. An odd collection of objects on a quiet southern lakeside, the black velvet of the night settling around them. Broken, somewhat bent out of shape, maybe not worth a second look for most people - but all carrying the visible signs of something that has had a lot of effort put into carefully putting it back together again.


	12. Chapter 12

_The radio reminds me of my home far away_

_And drivin' down the road I get the feeling_

_That I should have been home yesterday, yesterday_

 

_(Take Me Home) Country Roads - John Denver_

 

'What?'

‘I've said it once and I’ll say it again, your phone manner needs some serious improving.'

Dean pulled up the chair that Cas had stood against the wall next to the phone. It had been a few days since he'd been in the shop, preferring to leave the majority of it's running to his newfound employee for the last few weeks. He seemed to be better at it anyways; the shelves were so much better organized these days, and the floor was always clean.

'The only people who ever call this number are you, Sammy and sometimes Cas when he isn't too scared, I don't know why you can't understand that old man.'

Bobby chuckled deeply. 'Well, I’ve got news so shut up and listen to me properly for once.'

Dean nodded, before feeling stupid as he realised he was still on the phone. 'Yeah?'

'I'm coming down to see y'all. Next week, thought I’d better see Sam before I get dragged off to Ellen's mom’s for the holidays, and I need to make sure you haven't burned down that garage of mine.'

'Yes Bobby, I'm talking to you on a phone just sticking right out of the burning rubble. And it's the burning rubble of MY garage, actually. I paid you off ages ago.'

'Ah, shut up. Thursday had better be alright, I already organised cover for the yard.'

'Wait, you want to stay here?' Dean sputtered. 'Why aren't you going to Sam's like usual? He's got plenty of room at his place, his roommate isn’t even there right now.'

'What, and you don't have room? Far as I know it’s still only you in that house, or has that changed? I wouldn't want to impose if you're busy.' Bobby replied, his voice taking on a sly tone.

'No, of course not' Dean muttered. 'Thursday's fine, see you then.' He hung up defiantly, and leaned back against the window, staring ahead without actually seeing anything.

'Fuck' he muttered quietly under his breath, fingers hovering over the keypad of the phone still in his hand.

* * *

 

'So, you just want me to help clean?' Cas asked for what must be at least the twentieth time since he'd arrived. 'There's nothing else I can do to help?' Dean sighed and dropped an empty pepsi can into the half-full trash bag into his hand.

'Look, I appreciate you coming, but honestly, there's nothing else to do here expect tidy up a few things. I just don't want Bobby thinking I'm living in filth, he worries enough as it is.'

Cas nodded and looked around warily. Dean sighed again, wondering why he was so much hard work sometimes. 'Cas, If you've got something to say just say it, man.'

Cas started and cleared his throat, turning to pick up several coffee mugs off the kitchen table and drop them into the sink which he had filled with hot water. 'I just... you've lived here for five years, right?' He paused for Dean to nod, then continued. 'I just don't understand why it looks like you've hardly been here a few months. I'm not in much of a place to judge your decorating skills, but I've only been in Gloria's house for two months and it seems to look much more like a home than your house does.' He looked over at Dean nervously, trying to gauge his reaction. 'I'm sorry, it's probably not my place to say.'

Another empty can clattered into the bag, and Dean shook his head. 'Well it’s not your place to say but yeah, you're right.'

He sat down heavily at the kitchen table, which was looking remarkably better than it had the day before. 'I dunno, I just never really settled into it I guess.' He looked around to where Cas was leaning against the sink. 'Sam did, he had his room all set up with his books and his posters and god knows what, and he used to spread out all over the damn place. It felt more like home before he left, but afterwards it just felt too big and empty for just me. I spent most of my time at the filling station, and visited Bobby as much as I could, so I guess it started to get a bit neglected here.'

The room was getting slowly dim as it approached evening, the light filtering in through the small window bathing the kitchen in a weird yellow-tinged light. Cas was looking at him rather strangely, or least more strangely than usual. He left his position at the counter and walked over to sit down at the other chair. They sat quietly for a few minutes, the gentle noise of the TV filtering through from the living area.

'It doesn't feel like home to me yet either' Cas admitted in a small voice. 'I thought it would by now, but it's so quiet and empty and... different.' He stared down at his hands which were fiddling with the place mat on the table in front of him. 'I'm not saying I want to go back, but I just wish I didn't miss it so much sometimes. It would be nice to have somewhere to really call home again.'

Dean nodded, looking over at the man across from him. He always spoke so genuinely, Dean realised, like he had never learned properly how to lie or hide his feelings.  _Must be nice_ , he thought slightly bitterly, immediately ashamed as soon as it crossed his mind. Cas looked up with a curious shine to his eyes, and smiled weakly.

'So, you sure there's nothing else I can do? Do you need any help in the garage?'

'Oh shit' Dean groaned, remembering the state he'd left the room housing the impala in when working on it the week before. Deciding to change the oil in the impala after eight beers was not one of his better decisions, he wasn't afraid to admit. 'That would actually be really great. I don't suppose you know how to change oil?' he asked, glancing at Cas's smooth, pale hands in front of him. The other man looked slightly alarmed and Dean laughed softly, smiling with a rare, genuine warmth.

'Tell you what then, just grab a rag from the drawer by the door and follow me.' He stood up and awkwardly clapped a hand onto Cas's shoulder, squeezing it gently for a second or two before heading through the kitchen door. Cas stared after him, wondering why it was suddenly so difficult to get up and follow. Wondering how this man, this strange, distant, kind man would react if he knew that his little house in its little remote town was the place that felt most like home to Cas.

 _I wonder,_ Cas mused as he finally got up from the table and headed for the door in the hastily wiped and tidied kitchen.  _I wonder if it's possible for a person to feel like home._


	13. Chapter 13

_You should see my favourite people,  
You catch a glimpse of gold through their skins._

_And I'm alright on my own, but with them I'm much better  
They're like diamonds and diamonds are forever_

 

_Army – Boy_

 

The rain patterned down lightly against the window of the living room, barely heard over the mindless chatter of an over-excitable gameshow host on the TV in the corner. Bobby glared at it for a few seconds before turning around on the couch at the sound of footsteps behind him. Dean shoved the door open with his shoulder and deposited one of the cups of coffee in his hand onto the side table closest to the couch, then sank down in the opposite armchair. They sat in silence for a few moments, punctuated by the wind picking up outside and whistling through a tiny gap in the window frame. Dean coughed.

'I've been meaning to fix that.' he muttered. Bobby took a gulp of his coffee and shook his head.

'You gonna tell me why you're acting so god-damn weird boy? Because I tell you, the last time someone made me a cup of coffee without me asking for it was a hell of a long time ago now and I'm pretty sure I had to so more than just show up to deserve it. What's the occasion?'

Dean laughed. 'No occasion Bobby. Just glad to see you is all.' Bobby grinned back lopsidedly, settling back into the couch.

'Yeah, well. I do mean to get down more often. Ellen's always on at me, but y'know how it is.' Dean nodded, smiling awkwardly. He loved Ellen, but it had always been slightly difficult to get on with her - she was easily the most stubborn person he'd ever met, including himself. She suited Bobby well though, always made sure he didn't worry too much about him and Sam, and looked after himself from time to time.

It had been so hard in the beginning, stopping himself from running north every time it got lonely without Sam around, or the shop wasn't doing so well, or he just got sick of doing the same thing every day without any changes. It had taken one month of spending four weekends in a row at Bobby's for Ellen to finally sit him down and tell him to go the hell home.

Lately though...

'So.' Bobby cleared his throat, interrupting Dean's train of thought. 'Are you ok?' he asked gruffly, looking slightly embarrassed.

'Sure?' Dean replied, not quite sure what was expected of him. 'I mean, no different.'

'You sure about that?' Bobby raised an eyebrow sarcastically, staring pointedly around the room. Dean looked around in confusion.

'What? I cleaned.' he snapped defensively. 'I can clean.'

Bobby chuckled. 'Dean, I've known you your entire life. Your idea of clean is buying a new rug to hide the carpet stains and making sure you've got enough dishes left to eat off of. Do you even own a vacuum?'

'I borrowed one. From a friend.' Dean muttered, sipping his coffee.

'See, that's another thing. I don't mean to be a dick, but since when do you have  _friends_?'

Dean stared. Bobby wasn't joking, that was for sure. He looked genuinely concerned, as if the news was actually shocking to him. Come to think of it though, didn't he have a point? Other than Sam and Bobby and a handful of Sam’s friends over the years, it was hard to think of anybody else who'd willingly been in his house for more than ten minutes at a time. In the space of two months he had managed to collectively spend more time with Cas than he had with any other human being he wasn’t more or less related to in the last five years. He shrugged and looked at Bobby helplessly.

'You said it yourself, I guess my manner just isn't all that inviting to most people.'

'But this guy - Cas?' Dean nodded. 'Hell, I only found out he existed last week and you've already got him running my garage?'

' _My_  garage.'

'Dean.' He looked up to see Bobby unexpectedly smiling, warmly and genuinely. 'I'm  _glad_. He's good for you.'

'God you sound like Sammy, you'd think I never left the house the way you guys are acting. He's just a nice guy is all, he helps me out, so I help him out. We get on.'

'You help him out? With what?'

Dean thought for a moment. 'Well, he isn't very good with technology, like even worse than you.' Bobby snorted in protest but stayed quiet. 'He hasn't really got anyone to talk to except his freaky brother in New York, and even he is barely ever around, so I keep him company sometimes. And he's actually way better than me at running the shop. He got the register to stop making that clanking sound in like, the first few minutes he was working. He's just... a nice guy' he finished lamely.

Bobby nodded. 'You keep  _him_ company? Uh huh. Boy must be damn lonely to want a fool like you around all the time' he said, but his eyes sparkled playfully even as he spoke. The room fell suddenly quieter as the TV show in the background ended, giving way to a quiet infomercial. The silence was solid and comfortable though, and neither hurried to break it. Sometimes it was just easier not to.

* * *

 

Cas hovered awkwardly in the doorway to Dean's house, not sure whether or not he was supposed to step forward and join the pair a few metres in front of him in the driveway. The last few days had been rather different than he was used to, with another new person there to poke and prod at his guarded exterior and ask endless questions. Although, to his credit, Bobby had never once made him feel uncomfortable, and had backed off quickly whenever Dean told him to. Whenever he flinched at a question or the words in his mouth died out as soon as he tried to answer, Dean was there at his side, reassuring and calm, and Bobby had respectfully followed suit.

Bobby had approved of the general running of the filling station after a quick trip down to see it (despite Dean's continued protestations that he had no right to approve or disapprove of it anymore) and had kept his remarks about the old impala to an absolute minimum. He seemed to see much more than he let on, and more than once Cas felt his shrewd eyes watching him carefully when he wasn't paying attention.

It was nice though he thought, leaning against the front door frame and watching the two men squabbling by the car. Nice how easy they were able to be around each other, especially considering what Dean had told him about their history. It took a remarkable man to take on children that were in no way his own responsibility and raise them as his own. Hell, his own father hadn't even managed to hang onto all of the ones he had to start with. It was something only a truly good man could do, and it seemingly took a whole lot more than a few memorised bible verses to build a good man.

Overall, Cas had decided that he rather liked him.

'Hey kid, get over here' Bobby called over. Cas stood up straight after a few moments, realising that the shout was for his benefit, shook himself out of his reverie and walked over to the open car. Dean passed him with a chuckle, heading back into the house to grab the last of Bobby’s bags.

Cas held out his hand respectfully and smiled nervously, his heart swelling slightly at the idea that he was wanted at this particular goodbye. Bobby raised an eyebrow at him and scowled, before grabbing his hand and pulling him in for a rough one-armed hug. Cas froze on instinct, unsure of what to do before settling for patting the other man's shoulder lightly as he was released.

'Look,' he said quietly, reaching up to pat Cas's arm reassuringly, ' I get it, I really do. Sometimes families are a big old pile of shit. Hell, my own dad-' Bobby stopped himself and cleared his throat.

'What I mean to say is, sometimes you're better off choosing your own family. Screw that blood is thicker than water crap, if you weren't happy then you did the right thing getting out. Besides,' he nodded his head towards Dean who was walking back towards them with a duffle bag, 'we're hardly your typical all American family and we do okay, don't we? And if Dean wants you around then I sure as hell ain't gonna argue with that. Far as I'm concerned, anyone he cares about joins my family by default. You just take good care of him, you hear me?' He nodded at Cas and took the bag from Dean, placing it in the trunk with the others.

'Tell Sammy I said hello, yeah?' Dean asked, stepping back to where Cas was still stood, a slightly dazed look gracing his features. Bobby nodded and grinned, hopping into the car with the fluidity and elegance of a man half his age. As the car pulled away and drove off down the street, Cas dimly noted that the ground was dry enough now again that the dust was beginning to puff up beneath the speeding wheels.

Cas turned shyly to Dean, who looked more contented than he had ever seen him. His eyes drifted over to meet Cas's, gleaming with light and happiness.

'Well?' he asked casually, smiling softly at Cas. 'You coming back in or not?'

'Weren't you going to work on the car tonight?' Cas answered, forgetting to worry for once that it might seem odd that he'd paid so much attention to his friend's plans. Dean rolled his eyes and flung his arm playfully around Cas, pulling him tight and warm against him, and steering him back up the pathway.

'That old thing can wait. I've had Bobby snoring his head off in the guest room for three nights, and he knows full well I can never get used to the silence again once he's been hanging about, making such a goddamn racket. Always the same, even when Sammy comes to stay.'

They stopped and separated at the threshold, and turned towards each other. Dean coughed nervously and inclined his head sheepishly towards the door.

'Look, I don't want to stay awake with all of my ghosts tonight. Will you  _stay_?'

'In the guest room?' Cas asked, inwardly congratulating himself on how steady and calm his voice was. Dean shrugged and moved marginally closer, opening the door with one hand as he did. He held out the other invitingly to Cas, confident and shaky all at the same time, and for a moment the very air of the bedraggled front lawn seemed to shine dusty gold with hope and warmth.

'I guess I'll leave that up to you.'

Cas laced his fingers with those of the proffered hand and looked him up and down where he stood just a few inches away in the doorway, framed perfectly by the late afternoon light. He tipped his head back for a moment or two, savouring the picture so perfect it could have been framed on his wall.

‘Oh, fuck this,’ Dean stepped forward and closed the remaining distance between them as he brought their lips together, softly at first but quickly picking up in intensity as he realised that Cas was indeed reciprocating enthusiastically, and then some. He shuddered as the other man stepped forward clumsily, pushing them both inside the house and pressing their bodies together momentarily in a rush of firm heat. Dean kicked the door shut blindly behind him, and paused for a moment, stroking his fingers through the soft dark hair at the base of Cas’s neck, enjoying the way he leaned into the touch. Even in the low light of the hallway, he looked incredible, flushed and ruffled already. He felt a sudden rush of heat as their eyes locked.

‘Is this okay?’ Dean breathed, leaning their foreheads together and trying not to get carried away at how close those perfect lips were. ‘I just- I’ve wanted-’ Cas cut his nervous babbling off sharply as he crashed their lips together once again, scraping roughly against two-day old stubble. He swallowed a groan as he felt a light scrape of teeth gently pulling at his lower lip, soft and insistent and damn practiced. It wasn’t quite the shy and blushing encounter he had been expecting from Cas - but his brain was thankfully catching up to the rest of his body pretty quickly, which was already fully on board with the situation. The house seemed a lot less empty all at once, as they stumbled down the short hallway hand in hand, laughing and stumbling in the quiet of the early evening.


	14. Chapter 14

_"Love me tender" leaves 'em cryin' in the aisle_

_The way he moved, it was a sin, so sweet and true_

_Always wanting more, he'd leave you longing for_

_Black Velvet – Alannah Myles_

 

Castiel screwed his eyelids together tightly, disturbed by the harsh sunlight that seemed to be suddenly filling his eyes. He groaned and rolled over in bed, attempting to yank the covers up over his face and scowling when they refused to budge. He opened his eyes reluctantly and squinted over at the other side of the bed, his newly awakened mind struggling to fully comprehend the entire situation. Light must mean morning. Blankets must mean bed, which was a definite improvement upon couch. Blankets refusing to move must mean-

Oh. Castiel's brain slowly and reluctantly crossed the last few steps into full consciousness and took in the entire situation. On the other side of the bed lounged a very half-naked and alarmingly awakelooking Dean, casually sipping a cup of coffee and staring over at the opened window where the bright, dusty sunlight was streaming in.

He looked around just as Cas shuffled about into a sitting position, and after a glance at his ruffled demeanour, somewhat shyly picked up and offered over the other mug of coffee sitting on the almost bare bedside cabinet. Cas accepted gratefully and they drank in silence for a few moments, letting the quiet sounds of the road outside punctuate the air.

'I wanted-‘

'I just-'

Dean put down his mug. 'After you.' Cas took a nervous mouthful of his drink, wondering, not for the first time, if he could physically will himself to not blush. He glanced over – Dean looked almost nervous where he lay propped up on about five pillows, fiddling distractedly with the waistband of his shorts.

'I, um. Didn't really have much to say, just didn't want to sit in silence I guess.' Cas muttered quietly. 'How are you?' he asked before immediately regretting it.  _How are you? Who the hell asks that you idiot?_ He glared into his cup and shut his mouth firmly.

Dean raised an eyebrow and leaned over, placing a hand gently on the other man's arm, who flinched slightly at the sudden touch before relaxing into it a little. 'Dude, I'm fine, really. I just wanted to check that you were. Okay, that is.' he coughed, looking somewhat uncomfortable. 'If er, you want to take off or anything, I don't mind. Well I mean I  _mind_ , but it's up to you and if you're freaked then I'm not going to make you stay or anything...'

Dean trailed off, trying to gauge any kind of reaction coming his way as his thumb absent-mindedly rubbed circles where his hand rested, tracing along the sharp wrist bones just beneath the pale skin. 'Cas? Help me out here man?'

Cas nodded and sighed heavily, wondering why he hadn't anticipated this. It was all so easy in the midst of the night with a few drinks to take the edge off the reality of the situation for both of them, but he should have realised it wouldn't last. Couldn't last.

'I understand, Dean.' Castiel replied coldly, shrugging away his hand and taking a large gulp of coffee. Dean stared at him blankly.

'Understand what, exactly?' he replied slowly, wondering if he'd accidentally said something wrong without meaning to.

'That as your employee and friend, last night was unacceptable and you would like it if I could leave so we can go about our business and pretend this never happened. You don't need to drop hints or be subtle, I'm perfectly capable of handling your opinion on the matter.' Cas answered, voice becoming flatter as he spoke.

Dean sat up, scrambling through the tangle of blankets between them. Taking the coffee from his hand he grabbed him firmly by both shoulders and pushed him back. Staring down at Cas, with his messy hair sticking out in all directions, cheeks flushed pink and eyebrows knitted in frustration, Dean gently reached down to lift his head by the chin and meet his eyes. He leaned in slowly, not breaking eye contact until the very last moment before pressing his lips firmly and decisively against Cas's and moving a hand up to wind into the tangle of black hair ahead of him. Dean pulled back, staying close enough to rest his forehead against Cas's and grin up against him, a trace of his usual playful façade dancing across his face once again.

Cas stared up at the beautiful man in front of him, hardly daring to believe what was going through his mind. 'So... you don't regret last night?'

Dean laughed softly. 'No, Cas, as much as it might shock you, I don't regret last night. Do you?' Cas shook his head quickly. 'Well, that's good to know. That would have made working with you very awkward, and I'd hate to have to find someone else who knows how to work the register as well as you do' Dean teased lightly, running a thumb fondly through the tangle of soft hair he was still playing with.

Cas felt a weight on his chest that he hadn't realised was there dissipate into nothingness. He smiled, genuine happiness rushing into him. They lay for a few moments, comfortable and quiet in each other's company as Dean continued to stroke his hair, mussing it up even more than it already was.

'So um,' Cas cleared his throat and broke the silence. 'I wasn't – I assume I'm not your-'

Dean pulled back and ran his hand through his own hair instead, settling back against his own pillows. 'What, my first? 'Fraid not. First in quite a while though, if that makes you feel any better,' he chuckled.

'You never said, I guess I just never thought…' Cas replied, his eyes raking around the small, simple bedroom.

He hadn't taken in a lot of it last night, hurried as they had been, and he wasn't surprised to see it was almost as sparse as the rest of the house. The only defining features that marked it out as not-a-hotel-room were the pile of motoring magazines on top of the dark wood dresser, a vintage record player complete with a stack of fragile looking vinyl's, and a couple of simply framed photographs. None of them showed Dean that he could see, although several had Sam's grinning face in them.

'Well, like I said it's been a while.' Dean raised an eyebrow, glancing over at Cas where he lay, curled up in the blankets and looking up at him like he had no intention of ever moving again. 'Oh, so we're doing the talking thing right now, are we? Jesus, I'm not sure I can deal with this many chick-flick moments with only one coffee in me.'

Cas continued to look quietly expectant and determinedly silent, having picked up his coffee once more. Dean cleared his throat and shuffled uncomfortably. 'Well, it never came up! It's never been a big deal really, I like men and women just the same. I've never been in the habit of having long relationships as such, I had Sam to worry about and it's not as if this deadbeat place has a whole lot of choice anyhow, so it's never really been something I cared about much. I run a motor shop, drink my whiskey straight, and live in small town Tennessee. We ain't exactly got many pride parades strolling through town all too often.'

Cas nodded and finished off his coffee with a final gulp, before setting it down and rolling over to face Dean across from him on the bed. The bedsheets were plain but soft and clean, and the mattress beneath them was soft enough to make him never want to move again, now he paid attention to it. 'But your family, they don't mind?' Dean snorted, a huff of laughter falling from his lips.

'Are you kidding? After my dad died Bobby caught me sneaking in one night – not out, back in. I'd been out with some kid from the local community college - I don't even remember his name, god. We were climbing in through my window blind drunk and stinking of cheap bourbon, covered in hickeys and stubble rash. I thought he was going to murder me in cold blood, my dad surely would have. He sent the kid home, sat me down, yelled at me for driving his damn car drunk and told me he couldn't give a crap who I fucked so long as I made sure not to kill myself in the process. He put a lock on my door, starting hiding his booze better, and never made me feel like I was doing anything I shouldn't be.'

Dean smiled fondly, shaking his head lightly. 'Sammy knew as well I guess, but we never really talked about it, save for him pestering me about you.' Cas laughed lightly, reaching over to nudge the other man playfully, only to find himself being pulled closer by strong arms. They lay, legs tangled around each other and the tousled quilts on the bed, smiling easily and squinting as the light from the window began to wind its way directly into both of their eyes. Dean stared over at Cas, whose eyes fluttered uncomfortably against the brightness.

'So? What about your family?' Dean felt Cas breathe in sharply, then make a conscious effort to release it smoothly and calmly. He shrugged, eyes growing dark.

'Honestly, It's not as if I ever really had any chance to know what I liked, or how it would have come up with them. I had my first kiss at fourteen with a choirboy called Patrick, who was sent away to live with his grandparents later than month, and I didn't have another until I was almost nineteen and finally able to sneak out on my own. Only Gabriel knew anything, and since he sleeps with anything on two legs, I doubt he's ever cared too much.'

Cas sighed and flexed his legs out, folding them comfortably against the warm legs near him. He’d forgotten how much he’d missed the warm, desperate touch of another person, how good it felt to taste the salt on another person’s skin as he drew his lips across their collarbones, as they had in the close darkness last night. He shuddered at the memory pleasantly, and relaxed a little more.

'I don't think I care what they think anymore. I know family is supposed to be important, but I don't think there's anything I can do about them now.'

Dean nodded silently, then jumped up very suddenly, pulling the covers off both of them in one, terribly cold swoop.

'Come on. I get antsy if I'm in bed past ten, and there's pancake ingredients in the kitchen begging to be made.' He reached down, offering his hand to Cas, who shyly took it after a half-second's contemplation. 'Hey, you never know. I might just let you help if you're lucky' Dean winked, grinning down wickedly through the bright slices of sun cutting through the blinds.

* * *

 

**From: SAMMY 09.11**

**Hey man I tried to call, what are you up to? x**

**From: SAMMY 10.08**

**Tried the shop as well no answer there. did Bobby scare Castiel off for good or are you actually just both as lazy as each other? x**

**From: SAMMY 10.34**

**So Bobby tells me he saw Cas and you cuddled up in a doorway last night when he was leaving. Is it too much to believe that you've finally pulled your head out of your ass and done something about your stupid crush? x**

**From: DEAN 10.40**

**Shut up asshole we're trying to make breakfast**

**To: SAMMY 10.55**

**Also I did not have a crush how dare you**

**From: SAMMY 11.01**

**Jerk**

**From: Dean 11.04**

**Bitch**

**From: SAMMY 11.12**

**Tell Cas I say hi x**

**From: DEAN 11.17**

**He says hi back. I'll call you later x**


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter 15

_This is the first day of my life_  
_Swear I was born right in the doorway_  
_I went out in the rain suddenly everything changed_

  
_First Day of My Life – Bright Eyes_

 

**From: SAM 10.02**

  
**Hey man, how’s it going?**

 

Cas stared down at the phone in his hand like it was about to grow legs and run away, hand in hand with his wandering thoughts. It was a slow morning at the filling station, and the empty store ahead of him echoed with the quiet tones of a local country station from the radio at his side.

  
It had been four days since Bobby had left, and three days since Cas had woken up at Dean’s side, eaten pancakes in the little kitchen, and made his way home, happy and sated and sans promises or any further plans. Three days since Dean had been in touch at all, beyond a quick text to ask if Cas could watch the store on his usual day off, so Dean could drive to a local store for an engine component for the impala.

  
Cas glanced outside at the empty forecourt, reassuring himself that he was indeed alone. The bright midday sun was streaming in full bloom through the open shades, brightening up the green tile floor and highlighting the dust that hung lazily in the air. It was hotter than ever this week, a drier heat than before, less humid and more desert. Cas rather liked it, if he was honest. It felt more honest, more cleansing than the sticky thick days which had preceeded the storm. Like he was finally able to breathe above water, even if only for a little while. Fall was approaching despite the relentless heat, and Cas was determined to appreciate the last dregs of his first southern summer while he still could. 

  
Tapping his fingers on the counter to the beat of the music now fading into nothingness as the DJ interrupted with a weather report, Cas picked up his phone once again. The message had arrived with an unceremonious beep a half hour previous while he was refilling the water fridge by the back door, and he still wasn’t quite sure what to make of it. Was it meant for someone else, perhaps?

  
He took a deep breath and tapped back a reply, fingers moving quicker over the screen than they had the week previous, practice making it easier to use the unfamiliar gadget.

  
**From: CASTIEL 10.41**

  
Hello Sam. I am very well, how are you? Was this message intended for me? 

  
A reply pinged back almost immediately, startling Cas where he sat.

  
**From: SAM 10.43**

  
**Of course it was man! How’s things, what have you been up to lately?**

  
**From: CASTIEL 10.50**

  
I have been working, mostly. Yesterday I went grocery shopping.

  
**From: SAM 10.52**

  
**Wow, Dean’s really got you living the same exciting life as him, eh?**

  
Cas paused, suddenly thrown by the mention of Dean and the reminder of who it was he was speaking to. He stopped for a moment, unsure of how to respond, or indeed whether he even should be responding. _Still_ , he shook his head and continued composing a reply, _he messaged me first. It’s not like Dean ever said I wasn’t allowed to talk to his brother anyway._

  
**From: CASTIEL 10.56**

  
Jericho isn’t an exciting place, but I do profess a certain fondness towards it. 

  
**From: SAM 10.58**

  
**Ha, yeah, it was never my sorta town, but I can see the appeal. Are you with Dean at the moment?**

  
**From: CASTIEL 11.01**

  
No, he is not here right now. Would you like me to pass on a message to him?

  
**From: SAM 11.05**

  
**Oh, right. When will you see him next do you think?**

  
Cas frowned. It wasn’t as if they’d made any solid plans over breakfast earlier in the week. Or actually, even that they’d spoken since then, really. Should they have?

  
**From: CASTIEL 11.08**

  
I am not sure. 

  
**From: SAM 11.11**

  
**Oh no worries then man. Talk soon!**

  
And with that, Cas decided, he was more confused than ever. The DJ in the murmur of background noise of the store was prattling on about the great weather they were about to experience over the coming week, but suddenly his stomach felt cold. Perhaps things weren’t as beautiful as they’d seemed in that warm bed, sipping coffee and basking in pleasure.

  
***

  
Over the rest of the day and evening, Sam continued to send messages to Cas, some innocuous and some slightly more pointed, although Cas couldn’t for the life of him figure out what they were supposed to be pointing at. They chatted about the weather, Sam’s recent apartment move, sports – although that was a very short lived conversation – pretty much every kind of vague and banal small-talk imaginable.

  
It was driving Cas insane.

  
The coffee pot in the kitchen beeped incessantly at him as he passed into the kitchen, clicking the timer on the oven off and retrieving his dinner for one. In the living room behind him, a reality show contestant was crying to camera, the whiny noise only further setting his teeth on edge as he scrolled through the recent texts on his phone, fork in hand.

  
_Why is it_ , he wondered in between mouthfuls of pasta, _that I’ve ended up talking to the wrong brother all day?_

  
Another message pinged through as he sat reading, this time a query as to whether Cas had watched some gameshow that had apparently been shown earlier in the day. He stared at it for a moment, chewing thoughtfully, before opening up a new message box. 

  
**FROM: CASTIEL 20.13**

  
Would you say your brother is lonely?

  
Cas returned to dinner, stomach churning slightly in anticipation. Sure enough, hardly a minute had elapsed before his phone began to buzz insistently in response. He slid open the response screen, chewing thoughtfully.

  
“Cas? What are you talking about?”

  
“Hi Dean”

  
“Yeah, hi, hi. Why are you asking me about Sam?”

  
Cas stared at the dingy kitchen wall. _Does he sound... jealous?_

  
“Well for one thing, he hasn’t stopped texting me all day. I was wondering if he had a need for companionship that perhaps currently isn't being fulfilled.”

  
“Texting? You? About what?”

  
“The weather. Football. School. You.”

  
“Me!? Oh, for fucks...” Dean sighed heavily, rustling over the connection. “I’m sorry Cas, he’s a nosy little jerk sometimes, doesn’t know how to mind his own business. Don't worry though, I’m gonna kill him.”

  
“It’s fine. Maybe he could hold off on texting me every single minute of the day, though? I do need to eat, and sleep, and generally go about my life.”

  
“I’ll talk to him, I swear.”

  
A quiet lull fell in the conversation, not awkward, as much as just noticeable. Dean cleared his throat.

  
“So, erm. You been managing okay at the store?”

  
“Of course. There’s a new stock order coming in tomorrow.” Another pause. “Did you get the parts you wanted?”

  
“Nah, stupid garage ordered the wrong fitting. Now I gotta go all the way back next month. I swear, you’d think we were on the moon for how long it takes them to order things in.”

  
Somewhere deep in the recesses of Cas's brain, a tiny voice - which sounded far too much like Gabriel for his liking - whispered ' _fuck it.'_ Cas took a deep breath, bracing himself somewhat.

  
“Dean, are we going to see each other any time soon? Outside of the context of stock orders and car parts?”

  
“Huh? Well, I – of course we are, Cas. I mean, if you want to, anyway?”

  
“I do want to, very much. I enjoyed our time together and... I want to see you again.”

  
“Well that’s – that’s good then. I mean, I enjoyed- and you- and we’ll see each other again then. Yep. ”

  
The silence which fell again felt much lighter this time, despite the only semi-coherent babbling it followed.

  
“Look Cas, I gotta go, i’ve got burgers on the stove – but maybe you could come over tomorrow once we close up for the day?”

  
“Tomorrow sounds great.”

  
“Great – and hey, thanks. Y’know, for being cool about Sam.”

  
“Goodnight, Dean.”

  
“Yeah, goodnight.”

  
***

  
**FROM DEAN 21.03**

  
_You little jerk, stop gossiping with Cas behind my back. You’ll scare him off_

  
**FROM SAM 21.05**

  
**So, you actually finally spoke to him then? Thank god, I was running out of topics. Besides, I don’t get the impression he scares that easily.**

  
**FROM DEAN 21.07**

  
_Yeah well, knock it off. We’re hanging out tomorrow and I don’t need to see your dumb face popping up on his phone every 5 minutes._

  
**FROM SAM 21.08**

  
**Consider it done! Have fun :)**

  
***

  
Dean scowled down at his phone, buzzing with Sam’s tangible smugness next to some thoroughly overcooked burgers that were almost beyond saving. Stupid brothers, getting stupid involved where they weren’t wanted.

  
_Although, if Cas hadn’t texted you, were you actually gonna call him? Or are you really just that much of a coward that you can’t even allow yourself to be happy for this once?_

  
Maybe the burgers would be fine with some extra cheese, he thought, determinedly stabbing at them to drown out the needling voice of his own conscience.

  
No matter what else happened, it would definitely be going too far to admit that Sam might have been right, in one way or another. No way. He’d never live that down. A man had to have some pride. 

 


End file.
